To Learn How To Live Again
by Soupsoupsoup
Summary: They died. She couldn't handle it without them. So she ran to the other side of the world, where a girl who had been a stranger soon became her sister, and where she learned that maybe they would want her to live, not only for herself. but for them, too. No pairings.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Haikyuu!

/

Rain.

I hate rain more than I have ever hated anything in the world. It took my family away from me. Even now, when I hear the pattering of water on the windows of a bus or car, shivers trail up and down my spine.

But I love rain. Because even when I felt more alone than I had ever felt, the rain was there, mourning with me far longer and far more quietly than anyone else ever had.

I have mixed feelings about rain.

It was raining on the night they died.

The evening had been surprisingly warm for a December night, especially for Massachusetts. The rain had come first, pounding against our car, and then the mist had descended like a gentle cloud around the road. We were driving home from my final volleyball tournament for the season, and I was more elated that evening than I had been all that week. Of course, that's what winning does to you.

"I liked it best when you did that rolling on the floor thing, Phoenix," Hudson had said, bouncing up and down on his seat as we hashed and re-hashed the most exciting points of the day.

"That was pretty exciting," my mother had called over her shoulder, "but I thought your straight hits were pretty good tonight."

I had blushed slightly and then slyly said "What did you think, Dad? Wasn't I the best out there tonight?"

And my dad had nodded solemnly and said, "Obviously! I would tell you how much better you were if I actually knew what happened in the game though." And we had laughed and my dad had turned his head away from the road for only a second, opening his mouth to say just one more thing to me.

He never got to say it.

Because, just as we were going past where another street joined with our own, a car smashed into our own at top speed.

They told me later that the other driver had been unable to see where he was going and had lost control of the car. He had hit our car at just the right angle so that we were spinning, spinning so fast, away from where we were meant to go and then when we stopped spinning it wasn't gentle, because the thing that stopped our car was a tree.

And when I opened my eyes, the entire front of our car was crushed from both sides and the front, and I could tell that it was only by a miracle that I was as okay as I was and that Hudson was too but then it didn't matter because _Oh God_ was that blood? And when I looked over my little brother again and saw nothing but a few scratches and scrapes and an arm that looked like it might have been broken, but nothing was bleeding as much as is should have been to give off that much blood. And then I saw my Dad's hand still gripping the steering wheel and there was so much blood and when I croaked out my mother's name there wasn't an answer and I knew that my dad wasn't the only one who had been making the still-growing puddle of nearly black liquid on the floor of our car.

With shaky hands I called the ambulance and _please, for God's sake just get here fast because I think that they're dying._ And when the flashing lights lit up the the surrounding area I couldn't relax because I just knew that they were too late.

The funeral was on a Saturday. All of my parents' relatives came and their co-workers and their friends and my entire volleyball team came, even Mackenzie, who still thought I was a bitch. I had even thought about inviting Aven, even though we were on a break from being best friends, but this last fight had been so much worse than any of the others and I just knew that she hated me and she wouldn't drive seven hours just to see someone she didn't even want to be friends with.

And when the four of us children stood hand-in-hand by the coffins that were slowly being lowered into the ground I couldn't help but think that this might be some practical joke and if I wished hard enough I could get them to wake up. But as Juno wrapped Hudson and myself into her arms and Israel squeezed my hand I knew that it was too late and that they were dead.

After the burial came the hosting of relatives who came from far and wide to mourn for these people who they hadn't seen in years but they were so sorry for our loss. Most of the family stayed at the hotel nearby but our cousins and their parents would have dinner at our house and then the question of what would happen to the two children who were still underage came up.

That was the one question I had been avoiding the entire time and suddenly we were seated at our dining room table eating a ham and Uncle Tom was asking if Hudson and Phoenix would be living with Beth and I? The silence after those few questions was deafening.

"I'll come stay with them here," Juno suddenly said. "After all, we aren't going to sell the house."

"Juno, dear, we can't ask you to do that," Aunt Mary had said. "You have to finish your college. And Alabama is perfect for you. You love it there." When Juno opened her mouth to interject, Aunt Mary merely held up a hand and that was the end of Hudson and I being able to stay in our own home.

"Phoenix, weren't you going to be studying abroad this year, anyways? You could always continue with those plans and we would easily be able to find somewhere for Hudson then."

"John, you shouldn't be sending her halfway across the planet, especially at this time! She needs to be here, with her family," Uncle Tom said around a mouthful of sweet potatoes.

"No," I said suddenly. "I need to go. I want to go to Japan this year."

A few odd glances were passed around among the adults, but after a few quick nods they agreed. I would be going to study in Japan for a year and Hudson would be staying with our oldest brother Israel in Washington. And as I felt relieved that I would not be living in the house that held so many memories of my parents and that I wouldn't be forgetting that they weren't just late from work and then be reminded when I turned around and saw Hudson sitting very still that they would never be coming home ever again, I felt very guilty. Because out of the corner of my eye, I saw my twelve-year-old brother staring in horror at the table, not because he had to live with Israel but because I wouldn't be with him.

But two weeks later and I was at the airport hugging my siblings goodbye as I clenched my boarding pass and ticket in one hand and my suitcase in another. Because how could I celebrate Christmas this year without my mother making too many pies and all of us innocently offering to eat whatever was leftover and without my father wearing a handmade Santa's hat to pass out our presents?

A few phone calls had been made and soon the organization that had arranged the exchange was saying that yes, it was possible for me to come a few months early, due to the tragic circumstances. So I was heading to Japan in the middle of December instead of the end of March.

When I had settled myself into the plane seat for the trip and relaxed my head back, I found that I was suddenly very exhausted. Sleep had been elusive the past few days. Maybe it was the surprising emptiness of the room next door, but it could have been the occasional hiccup or sniffle coming from the lump on the other bed in the room that was my older sister. So I embraced the gentle call of sleep and when I next opened my eyes my neck was aching and my mouth was dry and I was in Japan.

The host family that I had been assigned to originally had said that, no, it would not be possible to host her for an extra four months, so the family that greeted me at the baggage claim was different from the other family that I had gotten to know a bit in the past few months.

The Kiyoko's were a small family of three. All of them were very attractive, especially the mother and the daughter with their delicate Asian features, glasses, and well-curved bodies. The father was loud and happy and short and stout and completely the opposite of my own dad, which suited me just fine. His wife reminded me a bit more of my own mother, with her gentle grace and warm friendliness, although where my own mother would have given a tight hug, this woman gave me a smile and a small bow.

I could tell that I would like their daughter Shimizu from the moment I saw her. She didn't speak very much, just like myself, but I could tell that her silence didn't come from being more preoccupied with her own thoughts. It was more like she was just very shy.

Their home was small. That was the first thing that stood out to me when I walked into the main living space. But unlike other places I had been in, it didn't feel cramped or crowded. Everything had its own place and that made everything flow smoothly.

When I saw that I would be sharing a room with Shimizu, I felt a bit awkward. I was, after all, living in this girl's home for 16 months. Even to begin with, that was a lot, but to be taking over her personal space felt like too much of an intrusion.

But Shimizu had already made space in her closet and her dresser and there was an extra bed in her room, so I began putting my things away silently and gratefully. The one thing I had dreaded was that this girl would be a complete and total brat, but Shimizu had done all of this without a single complaint.

Their dinner was a quiet affair, and after all of the questions about the weather, my journey, and what I was going to be doing here in Japan for the months before I started going to school had been both asked and answered, we ate in silence until I finally excused myself, claiming exhaustion.

The next day I awoke at four o'clock in the morning. I knew that I would not be getting anymore sleep that night, so I dragged myself out of the warm bed and pulled on exercise clothes and running shoes and quietly slipped out of the door, leaving a note on my bed for Shimizu if she woke before I got back.

The mornings in Japan seemed different from the ones in America, even if that shouldn't have been true. Perhaps it was because we were in the countryside now and I had lived in mostly suburban areas all of my life, but the air here seemed less heavy, and the sky seemed clearer than it had in America.

Soon I was racing along the edge of a field and the sun was peeking out from behind the distant horizon and I decided that it was time to be heading back to the Kiyoko house. After a few wrong turns, I finally made my way back to the small house and slipped silently inside.

The smells of warm rice and eggs and vegetables greeted my nose as I slipped my running shoes off and pulled on the inside shoes. When I had heard that the Japanese people ate such odd things for breakfast, I was prepared for the worst. After all, breakfast was a time for cold cereal and toast and bacon, not rice and fish and veggies! But the foreign smells greeted my nose gently in the hazy morning and, although they were unfamiliar, they were not so very unpleasant.

"Oh! Good morning, Jameson-chan!" I turned to see Mrs. Kiyoko- no, Kiyoko-San, beaming at me over a pot of steaming rice.

"Good morning," I said. "But you can just call me Phoenix. Unless it's too difficult to pronounce," I added as an afterthought. "Just call me whatever you want."

"Fu-i-ni-ku-su." The older woman slowly tasted the feel of the foreign word on her tongue. I nodded encouragingly, and she gave me a brilliant smile. "Would you like some breakfast?"

"Actually," I said, "I'd rather shower first."

So Kiyoko-San taught me how to work a Japanese shower and I quickly cleaned myself off before coming out of the room and settling down to breakfast.

My first day began a trend. Every morning, no matter how early or late I stayed up, I would wake up at four o'clock and I would run as far and as fast as I possibly could until the sun started to come out at around five-thirty. When I would arrive back, Kiyoko-San would be making breakfast, which I would happily partake in along with Shimizu-San and Kiyoko-San One and Two, as I started calling them in my head to differentiate them. And after Shimizu-San and Kiyoko-San One left for school and work, I would get myself ready for the day.

I had never worn a lot of make-up every day back in America. But here, I had just started doing it to cover the bags under my eyes and the redness of my nose. Eventually I had started to wear enough makeup that it didn't quite look like I was wearing any, but at the same time it was obvious I was.

And as soon as I was ready for the day I would take my things and head to the park or a cafe or a bookshop and I would read anything I could get my hands on and maybe I would try drawing the passing people and their dogs, even though I was horrible at art. And my lack of talent would show because the people always looked sad in my drawings and the dogs, even though I would draw them barking, soon were howling in grief.

And the day would pass and I would pass shops that sold souvenirs and I would avoid looking at the silk ties and colorful jewelry in the windows of the shops because that was what they had wanted me to get them. The afternoon would fade into the early evening and I would head back to the Kiyoko house and dinner would be there. It would be quiet and I was grateful for that, but sometimes I would almost wish that there would be loud laughter and joyful yelling and screaming because I was living in silence and they shouldn't have to do that with me.

When we would go to bed, Shimizu-San would be in bed and fall asleep easily and I would be lying awake for hours until I would slip into a restless sleep at around midnight. While I would sleep, I would dream of them.

I would always be in the hallway of our home. Laughter would be trailing throughout the house, and I would follow it to the kitchen and they would be there, happy and alive. They would smile at me and I would run to them and they would hold out their arms to embrace me and just as I started to slam into my father's sturdy chest I would wake up.

I would gasp and pant and then I would cry. It was the only time I would allow myself to cry because nobody could hear me this late. And when my face was sticky with tears and my heart was both heavier and lighter than it had been before. I would fall back to sleep and dream again, but this time when I walked into the kitchen, my parents would stare at me coldly from pale, mangled bodies and they would hiss in rough, harsh voices that this was your fault.

When I would wake up again, I would already be crying. And I knew that sleep wasn't going to be coming anytime soon and so I would wash my face and put on running shoes and then my day of avoidance would begin again.

Juno called quite often, actually. She would ask how I was doing and what I had learned and if I had made any new friends and I would lie and say that I was okay and that Shimizu and I had become very close friends. And I would ask about her and she would say that she was fine, just very busy and I knew that she was lying too but we both pretended that we were ignorant. Maybe we did it because we that that if we pretended that nothing was wrong for long enough that it might become true.

/

HI!

So this idea came to me the other day and it's been bugging me. I just kind of had to write it. It probably will only be about three chapters long, and I already have the second one finished. Hopefully it won't take me too long to finish the third one.

Please note:

The Kiyoko Shimizu in this story is the manager of the Karasuno volleyball team.

Phoenix is a difficult name to say in Japanese, but I have been studying the language since the beginning of the school year and can say that, roughly, it would be said as Shimizu's mother pronounces it in this chapter. I wish that I could write out at least the hiragana for you guys, but I'm not sure how Japanese keyboards work, so I think whatever I would do wouldn't be very accurate.

Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

Shimizu-san and I had been sharing a room for three weeks and we still hadn't had an actual conversation. It wasn't that I had been avoiding her, it was just that she was busy with school things and I was too preoccupied with not breaking down and so the weeks passed and we still hadn't spoken that much.

So when Kiyoko-san Two had decided that we would be doing laundry together because she was too tired and needed a break, we had sat at the tonkatsu in silence for quite some time before we started making small talk about the weather and such, and finally a very shy "Is this your bra," was asked. And after we had determined that yes, it was my bra and "Oh! We wear the exact same size!" things became a lot smoother and she would laugh and tell me about what her school was like and I would tell her about the dog that had stolen a woman's purse at the park the other day.

I liked being friends with Shimizu-san.

When we went to bed that night we compared our pajamas and confirmed that Shimizu-san's were cuter because they had tiny snails crawling all over them, but that mine were softer and so we were both very happy when we went to bed that night.

I still had my dreams that night.

The next few days would pass in the same manner, with us finding more and more similarities between us. Shimizu would say that she enjoyed a certain anime and I would agree and then I would mention a dessert and we found that we had nearly the same likes and dislikes.

But every night, after we had finally stopped talking late into the night, sleep would claim me and I would dream of my parents.

It shouldn't have surprised me when Shimizu-San woke me just when my parents began to tell me whose fault it truly was that they died. She jerked me awake and begged me to tell her what was going on and why she could hear me crying every night.

I told her that night. I told her how it was my fault that we were driving in the first place and that it was my fault that my dad wasn't looking at the road. I told her about how silent and still my normally hyperactive younger brother had been and how I knew that all my siblings and I were doing horribly and why didn't we just all stay together. That night, Shimizu-san sat on my bed for the rest of the night and held me as I cried myself to sleep, and when we woke up that Saturday morning, she was Shi-chan and I was Fi-chan.

The months after that passed differently. Not any easier or harder, just differently. I still tended to wake up at around four o'clock to run, but I would wake more rested because, if the dreams had been worse than normal, Shi-chan would let me crawl into her bed. And instead of just halfheartedly reading during the day and drawing sad doodles in the margins of my notebook, I threw myself into learning new kanji and eagerly began people-watching to tell different things to Shi-chan that night.

Soon after she had learned that I had played volleyball in America, Shi-chan began bugging me to at least come watch her boys' volleyball team. I couldn't.

It wasn't that I didn't want to play. I desperately wanted to vent my anger in a way that could be considered healthy, and smashing volleyballs into the floor was a perfect way to do that.

But it was because I had played volleyball that my parents were dead.

No more volleyball.

"Ow!"

"That's silly! Didn't you say that your mother loved it when you played volleyball?" I nodded at Shi-chan's question, rubbing the back of my head where she had smacked me. "If your mother loved watching you do something, then why should you stop? I bet she'd smack you too, if she knew what you were doing."

I told her I would think about it.

Soon, January had turned into February, and then March, and then suddenly it was time for the new school year to start. I had an enormous amount of crisp school uniforms hanging up in the closet, and I was a tiny bit confused about where Shi-chan's clothes ended and mine began, but it didn't matter too much because we wore the same size.

So, armed with notebooks and pens, Shi-chan and I began our final year of high school.

I had been hoping that we would end up in the same classroom, but Shi-chan was at one extreme end of the third-year hallway and I was at the other.

"I'll come and meet you for lunch time, okay," She said as she left me at my new classroom.

"Okay," I said in a small voice and watched her walk away for a moment before I began walked into the classroom and claimed an empty seat at the far end of the room.

It must have been odd for the other third-years to see a foreign student, because from the moment I walked into the room there was at least one person stealing glances at me and a few of the male students were blatantly staring at me. I ignored them all though and pulled out a small book I had picked out at the store the other day.

The teacher was merciful enough to not make me stand up and introduce myself in front of everyone. I did have to correct him when he stumbled over my foreign name, which brought about another round of hushed whispers.

The classes were very advanced, and I almost wished that I had been placed in one of the easier classrooms, if only because I still didn't quite understand everything the teacher said. Everyone talked so quickly! I was stubborn enough, though, that I would never ask to be put in an easier class.

When Shi-chan came to pick me up for lunch, she nearly had to drag me out of my seat and into the cafeteria.

"How can I understand you so much better than I can understand the teachers?" I moaned to her as I shoved a mouthful of rice into my mouth.

"Most of the teachers like to use really large words to make themselves sound smarter, especially in the more advanced classes," she said simply, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"That's stupid," I muttered, stabbing a meatball with my chopstick.

"You'll live," She said, patting my knee.

I returned to the classroom full, slightly sleepy, and completely invigorated after my lengthy rant to Shi-chan. Knowing that English was the next class of the day certainly didn't hurt my mood, either. I had only spoken my native language when Juno had called me, and I was excited to be able to speak with someone when I was utterly aware of what I was saying.

The English teacher was a stocky man with thick glasses and an awkward coating of scratchy stubble on his chin. He introduced himself as Sato-sensei, and, unlike most of the other teachers, didn't even bother to try to associate the names of the students to their faces.

"English is a difficult language, but it's not impossible to learn. I expect the best of my students, though, so be prepared for the worst," He said as he passed a preliminary test down the front rows of the room.

When I got the test, I stared at it in slight shock. Was this the test? It was so... Simple.

I understood that other people would be at far lower of a level than I would be, since I had spoken English my entire life, but even so, I had expected high school seniors to be at a lot higher of a level than this!

"Sensei," I asked quietly, raising my hand.

"Hmm? Is the test too hard for you?" He said, not even looking up from the papers on his desk.

"No, Sato-sensei. I was just wondering if we were also supposed to be correcting the errors in the test instructions as well as those in the questions."

The class was deathly silent.

"Eh? Errors in the test questions? What are you talking about?" Sato-sensei growled, looking harshly at me.

"W-well, a lot of the words are used improperly, and some of the sentences are incomplete."

"Who are you?" He hissed, his face starting to turn red.

"Johnson Phoenix," I said hesitantly, unsure if I should introduce myself the American or the Japanese way. "I'm the exchange student from America." The hushed fluttering of whispering flew around the classroom at my words.

"A-America!" The teacher spluttered his face turning purple. The class began to giggle a little bit at this. The teacher didn't know as much about English as he said he did, apparently!

"Do what you want," he growled, his voice growing lower and more threatening and his face purpling more and more with each word.

"Okay," I said, and set to work. The class around me, didn't however, continuing to titter among themselves until Sato-sensei roared that if they _didn't get to work right now, he would send everyone to the principal's office!_ It was silent after that, until the student next to me noticed the pencil markings all over my test and pointed it out to the surrounding students.

When I finally got up, far earlier than anyone else did, the other students were all craning their necks to see how many mistakes I had found.

"Look! It's entirely covered in pen!"

It would have been hilarious how purple Sato-sensei's face was turning, had I not been not only the cause of his embarrassment but also the closest thing to vent his anger out on. I was beginning to regret actually correcting the test questions.

"How did you do that? I'm Sugawara Koushi, by the way," The boyin front of me asked, turning completely around in his seat and staring at me with wide eyes as I sat back down.

"Do what? And I'm Phoenix," I replied, tucking my skirt underneath myself as I sat down.

"You made him turn at least twelve different colors! I didn't even know that was possible!"

I gave a light laugh. "I suppose we just have conflicting personalities."

"Sugawara! Turn around and get back to work!" Sato barked from the front of the classroom. With a light smile, Sugawara spun back around and busied himself with finishing his test.

As soon as the end of the class period was finished, Sato made a hasty retreat out of the room, his face still flushed red, and my desk was instantly surrounded by different students, all of them chattering at me at the same time. I could only catch a few words here and there, but what I did hear were names and exclamations about "how cool" my display had been.

"Excuse me," I murmured, slipping away from the crowd of people and rushing down the hallway.

"Shi-chan!" I cried, hurrying through the open door of the classroom towards my friend.

"Fi-chan! Are you okay? What happened?" The black-haired girl asked, concern showing on her face.

"I think I just made an enemy of a teacher," I moaned, taking the empty chair from the desk in front of her.

She blinked, and then motioned for me to continue. As I told her what had happened, I could see the other students staring at us curiously, and when I moaned about his reaction to my test, one nearby student choked on his milk. Everyone was eavesdropping, but I supposed that it couldn't have been helped.

"Well," Shi-chan said, "I think that you'd better be on your best behavior around Sato-sensei from now on. He's really strict."

I sighed and slumped across her desk. "Japanese school is so exhausting. I have to pay really close attention or I'll miss something important, and in the one class where I don't, I make the teacher hate me!" I looked up at my friend. "Is there something wrong with me?"

"I don't know about that, but I do know that you won't be gaining any points from your next teacher if you aren't in class." And with that, Shi-chan dragged me out of the chair and shoved me out the classroom door.

"Rude," I muttered, but I made my way back to the classroom and slipped into my seat just as the teacher walked into the room.

If the beginning of the day had been spent just trying to understand what the teacher was saying, the remainder of it was spent trying to ignore the hushed words and not-so-well-disguised looks from my classmates. And as soon as the bell rang, signaling the end of the day, I did my share of the cleaning, gathered my things, and tried to make my way out of the classroom quickly. I was stopped a few times by students introducing themselves, and I nodded and tried to commit the names to memory, but I knew that they wouldn't stick.

Shi-chan and I met each other in the stairwell and headed down together.

"I have club right now. Are you sure you don't want to at least come watch?"

"I told you. No volleyball for me." I sighed, and ran my hand through my hair. "It will take me a long time to sort through all of these papers and things that the teachers have given us, anyways. I'll be fine."

With a scathing look, Shi-chan turned and headed in the direction of the changing room. Pivoting on the ball of my foot, I turned and flung the doors open and headed down the path towards the Kiyoko home.

The walk wasn't very far, ten minutes at most. With such a short trip and my first-day nerves, I had been too preoccupied with watching my shoes to pay any attention to the path itself. But I had wandered around the small town enough in the past few months to know how to get back. As soon as I stepped outside though, I knew that the return journey would be more difficult than the trip to the school.

The cherry blossom trees were blooming.

I loved cherry blossoms. Everything from the color to the scent of them was appealing, especially since they were one of the most defining signs that spring was finally here.

There was only one issue; Japanese cherry trees had been my mother's favorite trees.

Every time we would go shopping at the stores that specialized in scented lotions and soaps, my mother would immediately go to the section that had that scent. Every year, she would tell us that, "Maybe this year we would be able to go to the Japanese Cherry Blossom Festival!" And when we had been planting trees, my mother had planted at least five of them, hoping that at least _one_ would survive this year.

And now, after I had successfully avoided thinking about either of my parents for the entire day, here was a blatant reminder about them and what they loved and what they did and who they were and how I couldn't show this to them because _they were gone._

Shakily, I stiffened myself and walked straight past them. I would not look at them. I would not look at them. I would _not._

But they were there at every turn and I had to make sure that I was still going the right way and then, right there in front of me, was a huge, old, gnarled tree covered in pale pink blossoms and it was _so beautiful._ And all I wanted was for her to be able to _see_ it.

My knees gave out. The sidewalk dug into my legs as I sat on the pavement and buried my face in my hands and gave tiny, shaky sobs.

"Stop _crying,_ you _wimp!"_ I whispered to myself, pleading that I would just stop and that nobody had seen my breakdown. But my tears just came harder because my dad used to rub my back when I cried and that would make me stop immediately and he wouldn't do that ever again.

"Umm..." A deep voice said in front of me. "Are you okay?"

I pried my hands away from my face and quickly wiped away the tears on my cheeks. I opened my mouth to say _I'm fine,_ but all that came out was a choked, "My mother loved cherry blossoms."

The person in front of me was obviously startled, because he was quiet for a moment. Then a gentle, "Why don't you come sit inside," came, and a soothing hand took my hand and pulled me to my feet.

The man was the shopkeeper of the store I had collapsed in front of. He had guided me inside and sat me down with warm tea to wrap my hands around and had sat down in front of me with a simple, "Do you want to talk about it?"

I started to shake my head, but then I nodded and began to speak. "They died. Both of my parents."

The blond man in front of me was silent, a cigarette dangling between his fingers as he paused at my words.

"They had been taking my brother and I home from my tournament. It was raining, and the other driver lost control of her car. All three of them- my dad, my mom, and the other driver- died on collision."

"I'm sorry," He said, letting out a puff of smoke.

"I came to Japan to try to get away from everything. From our house, from my family, from anything that might remind me of them. But, even on the other side of the world, I can't forget about them."

"Is that what they would want?" I looked up at the rough-looking man. "I've never lost anybody that important to me. The closest was the dog I had when I was seven. But I know that, if I died, I wouldn't want people to try to forget me.

"It's not like I would want them to continually think about me. But I would want them to go about their lives and do things that we had done together. Especially things that I had loved and that I knew they loved, too." He took another long drag and breathed the smoke out through his nose.

"I mean, I really love beer. But if I died and my friends decided that they would never drink again in order to honor my memory, I think I would come back from the grave and beat them all up!"

I laughed at this. "Thanks," I said, giving the older man a rough smile. "I think I needed to hear that. Well, maybe not that last part, but the rest of it was really perfect."

I stood up. "I should be going. Thank you for the tea."

He waved away my hand when I went to pay for the drink. "It's fine. Just take care of yourself, kid."

I gave him a nod and turned to go. Before I left, I stopped. "My name is Phoenix Johnson. Thank you very much for all of your help."

"Nice to meet you, kid. I'm Ukai Keishin."

Without another word, I left the shop. But as I walked down the cherry tree-lined street, I realized that the wild-looking shop owner had given me quite a lot more than a drink and some advice.

He had given me the completely unbiased, untainted opinion of a complete stranger.

I smiled as I shouldered my bag. Looking at the trees, I thought about what he had said. Even if I couldn't share these trees with my mother, I should at least enjoy them for her.

So I thought of my mother with only pure, happy thoughts for the first time in nearly five months.

That night, I didn't dream of anything.

/

I had a lot of fun writing this chapter! I really love the interactions between Shimizu and Phoenix!

I also have been experimenting with writing the feelings of panic, confusion, grief, and anger and the transition from those emotions to having more normal emotions. That's kinda why the last chapter had so many run-ons, so please understand that it was intentional. There was a lot less of that in this chapter, though, and I think that there will be little to none of it in the next one!

Thank you, everyone! Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

Please note before reading: Dialogue spoken in English is in _Italics._

School had become a monotone, as it always had, after the excitement of the first few days had passed. Shimizu and I fell into a routine; we would walk to school together, suffer through our morning classes, occasionally slipping into the other's class during breaks, and would meet the other for lunch. After lunch, we only had a few classes, but those few classes included English, which I sat through silently and timidly, in order to avoid Sato-sensei's wrath. After classes were done, I would head back to the house and struggle through the mountains of homework. I could tell that in English the assignments would only take me a minimal amount of time and effort, but since I had to translate a large portion of the words and I had decided to do all the extra work I possibly could, I would barely finish before I would go to bed, exhausted.

April had come and gone in a flash. Golden Week was here, and we had a full week to ourselves with no school, no early mornings, nothing. The crisp air of mid-May surrounded us, and Shimizu and I were both thoroughly enjoying the splendid weather.

Well, I was enjoying it. Shi-chan's club team had a training camp that entire week, and she had to be there to help out.

"That's so stupid," I said the first morning she left, watching as she slipped her jacket on. "Why should you have to go to a training camp that you're not even participating in? I think you should just skip and we can wear pajamas and watch movies all day."

"As tempting as that sounds," She said, slipping her outdoor shoes on, "It's my job as a manager to be at every practice, game, and training camp. So no, I can't skip." I pouted a bit at this. "You could always come and help me cook dinner. The boys eat so much that I know I won't be able to cook it all by myself."

"No."

"Are you-"

"Yes."

So, with a heavy sigh and a reproachful look, Shimizu gathered her bag and left for the day. I was soon reminded of the months before I had started school. Shimizu had usually left earlier than she had that morning, but the air felt the same after she was gone. It was quieter, if a person who spoke so little could possibly make the room seem quieter once she left.

I did absolutely nothing that day, and the next day was much the same. It was the perfect school vacation. At least until that Saturday.

"Phoenix-chan! Could you go run an errand for me?" Kiyoko-san's voice called. I quickly got up and followed the sound of her voice into the living room, where she sat surrounded by bags of groceries.

"Could you take these to Shimizu? She needed extra food for the boy's last meal, so I went out and bought some." I looked at the bags of food in awe.

"Can they really eat all of this?"

Kiyoko-san scoffed. "They're teenage boys. They can eat anything."

"True," I nodded. "I guess I can drop it off. There's not much else for me to do around here."

That was how I ended up biking a mile away with six bags of groceries somehow strapped to the vehicle in the oddest and most surprising ways.

"Shi-chan! Shi-chan?" I called into the building, hoping that I wouldn't have to actually go into the building and go through the trouble of putting my shoes on and off. A minute or two passed and there was no sign of Shimizu. Sighing, I slipped my shoes off and lugged the groceries through the building, hoping to find some sign of life or at least the kitchen.

After a minute or two of walking, my arms were beginning to ache, and I was ready to just drop the bags on the floor and leave. But then I heard it. Faintly, as though very far away, was the sound of shoes squeaking, of people yelling, of balls thumping.

It was the sound of volleyball.

I nearly turned and ran right then and there. I may have agreed that eventually I might be able to play volleyball again, but I was still doing penitence. No volleyball. That had become my mantra these past few weeks, whenever my hands started to ache and my forearms felt too soft from lack of use.

But I wasn't playing volleyball. I was dropping off groceries for Shi-chan. If Shimizu just so happened to be in a gym where they were playing volleyball, then that couldn't be helped.

So I walked through the building and poked my head around the door and saw a welcome scene

It was a normal serving warm-up; the students would just serve the balls back and forth, getting their arms moving. But I had done that warm-up so many times, I wanted to drop everything and run to join them but I didn't. I wasn't going to play volleyball.

With a lump in my throat, I ripped my eyes away from the familiar sight and looked for my friend. When I saw her standing with her back to me, holding a clipboard, I sighed in relief. This had not all been for nothing.

"Shi-chan!" At the sound of my words, the brunette's head turned towards me. She watched with wide eyes as I flounced over to her, enjoying the swishing feeling my skirt made as I walked. "Shi-chan, your mom wanted me to bring these for you!" I motioned towards the entrance to the gym where the bags were.

"Thanks, Fi-chan," Shimizu said, still looking slightly surprised at seeing me.

"I've dropped them off, so now I'll be going," I said, giving her a quick hug and trying to make my escape before I was roped into staying for much longer.

"Fi-chan," Shimizu said, grabbing my forearm before I could move, "I thought you said you weren't going to come by the training camp."

"I wasn't planning on it," I said, turning back to her. "It just sort of happened. Besides, your mom asked me to."

"You should stay. I'm not saying that you should help with the practice or anything," she said, holding up a hand to silence me, "It just would be helpful to have someone help me with dinner. Plus, I'd like to have another girl around here."

I bit my lip and furrowed my brow. "I shouldn't. I would like to help you out, I just... I can't be so close to- to all of this," I said, making vague gestures with my hands.

Shi-chan opened her mouth to say something when a loud, "Watch out!" caught my attention. I whirled around and saw a volleyball veering off course and heading straight for Shimizu and myself. Without thinking, my hands slipped into position and before I knew it, instead of just catching the ball, I had just made a ball that would have hit my forehead bounce off in a perfect arc.

A tall boy with long hair tied in a bun came jogging up, looking a bit surprised. "I'm sorry about that. Nice receive, though." He held out his hand. "I'm Asahi Azumane, by the way."

Remotely, I grasped his hand and shook it as I said, "Johnson Phoenix." Inwardly, though, I was screaming.

What had I just done? How could I have been so stupid? This wasn't meant to happen! All of these thoughts ran through my head as I stared dumbly at Asahi, not even noticing the small crowd gathering around me.

"OOOWAAH!" A loud shout made me jump as a tiny orange-haired boy popped up out of nowhere. "That was so cool? Do you play volleyball? What position are you? Why is your hair so curly? Are you from America?"

I blinked at the barrage of questions. "Umm... Yes?"

"Tanaka-san, did you hear that?" Another short boy was mock-crying onto a bald boy's shoulder. "A beautiful girl who plays volleyball!"

"I did hear that, Noya-san, unless my ears are deceiving me." I flushed bright red at their words and looked at my shoes.

"Johnson-san?" A voice said, and I snapped my head up to see Suga-san, the boy who sat in front of me in class. "What are you doing here?"

"Groceries," I mumbled, gesturing to the pile of bags near the door.

"Fi-chan was just dropping off tonight's dinner," Shimizu said, starting to wave the boys away. By now, the whole team had come over and was watching the interaction.

"Ooh, are you going to stay for dinner? Because then you can show me how you did that thing you did! Then I won't get hit in the face as often!" The first small boy piped up, poking his head around another, far more frightening-looking, boy's shoulder.

I opened my mouth to say no. Before I could say a word, though, Shimizu interrupted me.

"Yes. She will be helping me with dinner."

As the boy cheered and the others gave me sympathetic looks, I could only look at Shi-chan in horror. What had this girl just done? I couldn't just leave now, since she had told everybody that I would be staying. But now she had roped me into helping this crazy child with volleyball!

The entire time Shimizu and I were preparing the dinner, I never spoke a word to her. If I wanted the knife she was using, I would get a different one. If she needed me to do something, I would do it as if I had always planned on doing it. I felt like I was swimming in hot, syrupy tension. Shimizu gave no outward signs of being upset; it almost looked like she was amused by my angry silence.

The moment dinner was finished, the orange-haired boy was bouncing all all over me, begging me to teach him. Only a few moments later, bald boy and his short friend were advancing towards me, but they stopped when Shimizu distracted them with some menial tasks. I tried to make excuses, but the boy just kept saying that he would wait until I was ready. Finally, I roughly sat the pot I was drying back on the counter.

"No," I said, my voice as cold as steel and my hands gripping the edges of the metal pot tightly, "I won't teach you anything. I can't teach you anything." Before the small boy could say another word, I stormed outside.

Chest heaving, I leaned my head back against the wall and pulled nervously at the ends of my hair. _"God. Oh, God, what is happening to me? Do I have no self-control?"_ I took a shuddering breath and closed my eyes. _"You can do this, Phoenix. Just don't give in."_

"I had thought you were foreign," A voice said from about ten feet away, and when I heard it, my eyes flashed open and I turned around only to see the shopkeeper who had helped me on the very first day of school. "I never thought that I would be able to confirm that, since you never came by my shop again."

"Ukai-san," I said, pushing myself off the wall and composing myself as I gave a short bow. "Thank you very much for helping me that day. I'm sorry that I never thanked you properly. It must have slipped my mind."

As I straightened up, I looked at the older man. He was still young, only in his late twenties or early thirties, and looked, at least by Japanese standards, to be a very rough, wild person with his long bleached hair, his earrings, and the cigarette dangling from his fingers. By American standards, though, he wasn't too odd looking.

"Sir, if I may ask, what are you doing here?"

"Eh? I got roped into being the coach here for a week. But I should be asking you that. You aren't the manager here, I could tell that by how the boys acted around you, and it looked like you only knew one or two people in the club to begin with. So why on earth would you be coming to a club training camp?"

After a quick explanation on my behalf, Ukai-san nodded and said, "We should probably be going in soon." He pushed off the building wall and strode past me to the doorway.

"I guess I'll be saying goodbye here, then."

"Eh? You're not coming in?"

I shook my head. "I need to be getting back home."

"Okay," he said, but I could hear the hesitation in his voice. I turned and started to walk around the edge of the building, but the sound of his voice stopped me.

"Phoenix-chan. This- your leaving right now- doesn't have to do with our conversation earlier, does it?"

I bit my lip. Replying wouldn't do me any good. I began to walk away again, but, yet again, Ukai-san's voice stopped me.

"Phoenix-chan. I can tell how much you want to play volleyball. You shouldn't let your grief- or your guilt- stop you from playing."

"I can't," I whispered. "I already told myself that I wouldn't play, at least for now. So I can't."

"Being stubborn and fulfilling what you said you would do is a good thing. But your parents would have wanted you to do what makes you happy. And this vow you've made is obviously making you miserable."

"Do you know why I told you about my parents?" I said, almost shouting now. "I told you because I thought that I would never see you again! What's the harm in pouring your feelings out to a person with whom you share no similar social circles, no common places to go to? If I had had my way, I never would have seen you again! But here you are, and you are the volleyball coach of my best friend's team! It's like someone is trying to make my life as difficult as possible!"

Ukai-san was quiet. Had I gone too far? But the words were said now, I could never take them back.

"You can do whatever you need to do. Sleep on it, though, and come along with Kiyoko-san to the match tomorrow. Watch the boys play. You won't regret it." Before I could say another word, he had slipped back inside the building.

That night, I was restless. My dreams had stopped coming quite as often, due to Ukai's words and Shi-chan's comfort, although they still came regularly. This night, however, I was not kept awake by the fear of what lay in store for me behind my closed eyelids.

Ukai's words kept echoing in my ears. What would my parents want me to do? Yes, they had always supported what I had done and helped me do the best I could, but what if I wanted to give up volleyball for them? Yes, it hurt more than I had thought it would to just sit inside and learn, but my parents had given up so much for me, I should give up something for them.

My hands suddenly started tingling. I lifted them from where they lay by my sides and stared at them. They looked no different. But I had felt a volleyball- played volleyball- for the first time in nearly six months. Certainly something had changed!

The next day, I found myself slipping on my shoes with Shi-chan, preparing to catch the train for the training match. I wasn't quite sure how I ended up doing that, but, somehow, I was there.

I was tense the whole ride there. The rest of the team seemed to be filled with nervous excitement, but while some of them were very still, muscles clenched, others, especially the two shortest boys, were constantly bouncing up and down.

When the boys had seen me walking beside Shimizu, I could see some confusion, but a few of them greeted both my friend with extreme enthusiasm. Introductions were soon passed around the group, and the next few minutes were spent trying to remember which names went with which people.

Sugawara had filled me in on the backstory of the two teams on the ride here. The tale of an old rivalry being rekindled was exciting, something straight out of a anime. Interested, I watched the interactions between the two competitive tension was so thick in the air as the boys met their opponents, I felt like I could cut it with a knife.

When the teams started warm-ups, an odd sensation trickled through my chest. It was an aching longing, filled with cold regret, but there were traces of warm nostalgia and something that almost felt like hope. As the teams went through the traditional exercises, the feeling grew and grew until I almost felt like I would burst from all the emotions flooding through me.

When the teams slipped out onto the court, even though their opening ceremonies were slightly different from the ones we had in the states, my hands started to clench the railing I was standing at so tightly, my knuckles turned dangerously white. These scenes were so familiar to me. I easily could be among those standing on the court.

I distracted myself by assessing the line-ups of the teams. Most of it seemed pretty standard, but why was that tiny boy- Hinata, I told myself, his name is Hinata- standing in the middle position? He wasn't that short, especially for Japan, but he was about the average height for a girl. I had played with boys teams for recreation before, but I had never been quite able to jump high enough to be able to spike comfortably, and I was a few inches taller than the average. Either this was just a ploy, or Hinata was incredibly good.

The game took my breath away. Where Karasuno was fast-paced and wild, smashing forward with brute force, Nekoma was smooth and slow, able to adapt to anything Karasuno threw at them. It was a battle of opposites.

I could see the desperation and determination in the teams before me, especially in Karasuno. They wanted to show this team that they weren't "the unflying crows," anymore. So when Hinata stood and boldly said, "One more," my heart pounded with his. Because if he could stand up again after defeat, so could I.

The entire time the boys were playing, I was right there on the court with them. I was flinging myself on the ground with Nishinoya and swinging at the ball with everything I had, just like Asahi. My hands tingled with Hinata's when he hit a particularly hard spike, and for every ball missed, I mentally berated myself along with the rest of them.

For the first time nearly forever, I was playing volleyball, even if it was only my mind that was on the court and not my body.

And, for the first time since the accident, I wanted something almost as desperately as I wanted to have my parents back.

That Monday after school, I didn't head straight home. I found my way to the extra gym. It was empty for the moment. I stole a spare volleyball from the cart and began hitting the ball against the floor, making it bounce back against the wall and fly back to me. For nearly ten minutes, I smashed my feelings into that ball.

The door creaked open. I turned towards it and saw a couple of small girls. They looked at me, looking surprisingly like a deer looked when you turned the porch lights on and found it eating your tulips.

"Hi," I said. "Are you the volleyball club?" A couple of nods confirmed that, yes, this was the girls' volleyball club. "Would you mind if I practiced with you?" Another set of nods.

There were a good number of girls, but they did pathetically little in their practice, especially with the tournaments just around the corner. After a half hour, most of the fifteen girls gathered began to stand idly by the edges of the gym and chat. I clenched my hands but kept my silence.

"Hey," I asked, approaching the group of girls. "Which one of you is the setter?" One girl timidly raised her hand. "Would you mind setting a few for me? I want to get back into the swing of things."

She followed me out to the center of the court and stood by the edge of the net, looking like she was trying to decrease the amount of space she took up. I tossed her the ball and began to make my approach. My arms and legs began to make the familiar motions, swinging through the air to gain more momentum before launching myself into the air, finally using the leg muscles I had been toning all these months with all my miles of early-morning running. My arms ripped through the air, my wrist snapped- and there wasn't a ball there.

I landed slightly off balance. The tiny setter stared at me, aghast that she had set so off course that the ball had landed well past the court. I looked at her sharply and she recoiled. She shrunk back even more as I approached her.

"Hey," I said. "If you're going to make that kind of set, at least tell me so I can make a proper approach." I patted her roughly on the shoulders and walked away, retrieving the ball before heading back to my starting position. "Let's try that again, okay?"

This time as I made my approach, I watched the setter out of the corner of my eye. She bent her arms and legs, fingers cushioning the ball for a brief moment before she straightened herself out and gently pushed the ball through the air. It soared above our heads in a perfect arch before stopping just where I wanted it to. My arms shredded the peaceful aura around the ball, though, as I smashed my palm into the ball, sending it straight down the sideline and making the ball bounce in the exact corner of the court.

I landed, gently this time, and stared at my hand. Spiking a perfect set felt better than I had remembered.

"Woah," The shy setter said, staring at me in awe. "That was awesome!"

"You're not so bad yourself," I said, flashing her a small smile.

Soon, a few of the other girls were lining up to hit and a couple others were standing on the other side of the court, ready to receive.

That was the beginning of how I became the ace of the Karasuno High School Girl's Volleyball Team.

When we went to the tournament two weeks later, the other girls seemed at least slightly more interested in the sport than they had at that first practice. I had my suspicions that they weren't interested in practicing so much as they were interested in gawking at the talented transfer student who had joined the team so late in the season. Whatever their motivations, though, I welcomed having a team to play with that was at least slightly interested in actually coming to the practices.

The night before the inter-high, I was a nervous wreak. Shimizu had to wrench the truth about why I was shaking so badly out of me, and even then all she could understand was, "She won't be there."

When I had played volleyball in America, my mother had never missed a single game. No matter how long her day or how far she had to drive, she would be there, dragging my reluctant brother along with her. My dad would come whenever he possibly could, but his job kept him extremely busy and he was usually only able to make one or two games during the school season and four or five during the club season. To not be able to look into the stands and see my mother waving her arms after a particularly good play or be able to smile as she poked my brother's arm, trying to get him to look away from whatever game he was playing at the moment was terrifying. She had always been there, a constant that I had never been without before.

It was probably the moment that I realized the reality of how large a hole she had left in my life.

We didn't win any games at the tournament. The only game we played went to three sets, the score close each time. I hadn't truly expected to win very many games; the team had no coach and most of the girls didn't come to the majority of the practices. My joining the team didn't make that large of a difference.

As soon as I possibly could, I was back at the gym. The other girls trickled in, and after it seemed like nobody else would be coming, I looked at the small group. Four of the other five third-years had decided to stop coming to the club and instead focus on their studies. There were only eleven of us now.

"I know I only joined a few weeks ago, but I hope you'll listen to what I have to say," I said, drawing the other girls' attention to myself.

"I know that most of you girls aren't really dedicated. I know that you don't really have fun with volleyball, so you skip practices and try to get out of working yourself too hard." Nervous looks were being exchanged. "If you don't think you want to work any harder than you are now, I would quit the club. I want to play as much as I possibly can, so I am going to start making strict training regimens.

"But you should know before you quit that volleyball isn't fun to play when you aren't good at it. The only way to enjoy this sport is to get the thrill of getting a perfect set and hitting it perfectly, or to be able to throw yourself onto the floor and be able to pick the ball off the floor. You have to find the thrill and never let go of it. If you don't think you'll ever be able to find that thrill, please walk out now."

The room was dead quiet. Nobody moved for a moment, and then two of the second-year girls looked at each other. Not saying a word, they grabbed their things and slipped out of the gym with only a brief glance over their shoulders. The grating of the door sliding shut was relatively quiet, but it seemed to be a low rumbling of thunder in the distance, warning of the storm that was to come.

"Anybody else?" I asked, praying that nobody else would leave. There were only nine of us now, leaving very few people to be substitutes.

Nobody moved. There was a shuffling of feet and finally the shy setter, the only third-year other than myself who had stayed, spoke up.

"What now, coach?"

I gave the girls a slightly evil grin. "I'm so glad you asked."

/

This is the final chapter! There will be a short epilogue, but it's only about 500 words. I'm really happy with how this chapter turned out! Phoenix is finally doing what she wants!

I would have updated this faster if I could have. This chapter has actually been written for a few days now, but my family and I moved to a new house and we had no wifi for a while. Plus school has been keeping me pretty busy. The epilogue is already written, so I'll probably upload that later tonight, after I'm done with my homework.

NOTE: I decided to make it so that Phoenix's name is written like it normally would be in English. Earlier I had written it as if it would be said phonetically by a Japanese person. That was really confusing to read, so I changed it to make it easier on myself and you guys. Just be aware that they would not be saying Phoenix like we would.

Thank you, everyone, for reading! Please tell me what you thought!


	4. Afterward

PLEASE NOTE BEFORE READING: Although in the last chapter, English dialogue was italicized, there is no actual Japanese dialogue in this, so all the dialogue is normal.

I fingered the phone in my hands, turning it over and over again with my fingers as I watched the rain fall outside. The sky was black, the occasional lightning bolt flashing through the sky and slicing the world into two parts for a split second before the bolt would retreat back into the sky and the world would collide back together in a crash of thunder.

I tore my eyes away from the window and began to punch the numbers into the phone. My fingers were sluggish, dragging across the numbers. The phone began to ring.

"Hello?" A voice asked at the other end of the phone.

"Hey Juno," I said. "It's me."

There was silence. "You haven't called in a while. How've you been?"

"Good. Really good."

"I'm happy to hear that. You were worrying all of us for a while there."

"Sorry." Silence passed for a moment between the two of us. "I joined a volleyball team."

"You did? When was this?"

"May. The volleyball season never really ends here, so I've been able to play year-round," I shifted my weight to my other foot and switched the hand that was holding the phone.

"You should have told me earlier," My elder sister reproached. "I want to hear all about the team! And everything else about Japan, of course!"

"What did I last tell you?"

"I think the last time we talked was a week or two after school had started for you."

"How much do you want to hear?"

"Everything!"

I laughed at my sister's predictable reply. Then, after a moment or two of thought, I began to tell her about Japan.

I told her about how I had improved at the language and using chopsticks. I told her about the funny odds and ends I had found around little stores and how different the food was. I told her about all the strange and beautiful things I had seen and learned while I was here.

I talked about how I had joined the volleyball team. We laughed at how I described the girls doubled over in exhaustion after practice. She crowed at the stories of our victories and clucked when I told of the squabbles that would always exist among a group of girls.

"From all that you've told me, I think that I'd love these girls." I smiled at her words. She would smother these girls with affection. "I can definitely tell that you love them, too."

"Yeah," I said. "I do."

Another comfortable silence passed between us. "We're playing in the fall tournament's championship game tomorrow. If we win this, we go to nationals to represent our prefecture."

"Really! That's so amazing! You'll have to call me to tell me all about it! Just make sure that I won't be sleeping then!"

"Okay," I said, laughing at her words.

"Hey. You are coming home for Christmas this year, right?" I stilled at her words. Christmas was a couple of months away, but now would be the time to think about going back home.

"I'm not sure. The school only gives us a few weeks off, and usually the sports teams use that time to go on training camps."

"Try to come back, Phoenix. Please. I need to see you. It- it's almost been a year now. " The seriousness of my usually silly older sister surprised me.

"I know. I've been doing really well, especially lately. I think I'm going to be okay."

"Promise me that you will come back. We miss you so much, especially Hudson." I pictured my younger brother. He would be thirteen now. A real teenager. How had he changed in this past year?

"I'll do my best."

"Good."

Another silence fell, this one not so comfortable as the last, but still an easy quiet.

"I should go," I said. "It's getting late."

"Okay. Win for me tomorrow?"

"Okay."

We won.

/

Thanks so much for reading my story! I really enjoyed writing it, and it's helped me get out of a slump I've been having with another story I've been writing. I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I have!

Please tell me what you thought! Any and all reviews are welcome!


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